Regret
by Noir Productions
Summary: First person POV oneshot of Amalia Hawke having a drink with Knight-Captain Cullen when the topic of Jecca Amell is raised. Read and Review please!


Regret

Pleasantries with a templar were never on a list of things to do in my life time. But after spending many years in Kirkwall, I've made unlikely alliances nearly everywhere. So as I sat there, ale in hand, sitting across from the Knight-Captain, Cullen, I realized it wasn't too bizarre in further contemplation. Too see him relax was definitely something I thought I'd never see, much less have a drink with him. As he placed the mug down, I could see the wall around his mind fall away. Mage and templar, co-existing harmoniously together as if their stations weren't of consequence.

"It brought my mother great joy. I'll never forget the look on her face. Restoring the Amell name was all she ever wanted to do." I didn't notice the change in him at first at the mention of my mother's maiden name. The way he stared into the amber pool within the mug in his hands, it was almost startling.

"Amell, I know that name." He said softly, as if he was still unsure of himself despite his confirmation. I stared at him for a moment carefully, remembering that he had been in Ferelden when the Blight began. I let my hands rest against the sides of my mug, remaining silent as he seemed to battle internally with his thoughts. "Her name was Jecca." He continued, almost fondly for a moment. I offered him a nod, pushing hair from my face.

"Yes. The Warden Commander. She is in fact a member of my family. Despite your distaste, Knight-Captain, my family is full of mages and apostates." He shook his head gently at my words, but I don't believe it was in discounting. Just in recollection.

"I met her at the Circle. She had been there all her life. I had been younger, greener then." He lifted his gaze to me for a moment, my eyes locking with his for an instant before he looked away. "She had been kind, unlike the rest of my charges. She didn't hate me because of my duties to the Circle. Never, judgmental toward me." He licked his lips, his eyelids blinking for a moment before he stared at the table's surface. "And she was also incredibly beautiful, Maker forgive me, she was beautiful." He said softly, and I could feel a tension growing within my chest. As he continued on, I realized early on what this was to him. A templar, one devoted to his cause, had once been in love with the very thing he was meant to oppose. It was tragically poetic in a way and I couldn't contain the look of awe on my face.

"The night of Ulred's attack on the Circle with his band of maleifcar, she came. With her companions. She just, drove right into the one place she had been dreaming of escaping, to save it." I could feel his eyes on me and I couldn't help myself as my gaze locked with his. I could see the moisture in his eyes, and for a moment, it felt like he was in pain. "And when I saw her, I had feared that the abominations had delved into the far reaches of my mind. As if they were pulling her free from the cage I had hidden her in my heart. Taunting me with her." He gulped, looking down at his hands as he rubbed the pads of his fingertips against his palms. "But it had been her. Flesh, the same scent." He shook his head, losing himself in the memory as I watched him, almost helpless to the entire situation. I hadn't been there, I hadn't seen the horrors he had been forced to endure. He choked up a bit and shook his head.

"The way her hand reached for me as I shouted at her. The trauma of seeing my comrades lying dead all around me, feeling like I was the only one left. My rage keeping me from seeing true reason, my hatred toward the mages responsible clouding my judgment. Maker, the way I spoke to her as if she meant nothing." He shook his head at himself, reaching for his mug and taking a long drink from it. He grunted, placing the mug back against the surface of the table, his gaze fixed on it. "She saved us all, and yet I judged her for what she was. Treated her as if she meant nothing to me when in reality…She was everything." From there, he finally looked back at me, realizing that he was unleashing all of this to one who was family to the woman he had scorned. "And I watched her walk away, with another man at her side. A man who would become the King of Ferelden." And from there, he snorted a bit and shook his head at himself. He finally brought his gaze to meet me once more, as if searching my gaze for answers to his problems. "I hated what she was. Despite how good her intentions may have been, she was still a maleficar. The one thing I truly fear. I guess it's only fitting." He said and with that, he finished the rest of his ale and set the empty mug against the table. He raised his hand to the barkeep for another. He looked away from me and I looked at my own drink, unsure of a response to all of this.

"Despite your apprehension, she saved the nation from the Blight. She's a hero, for Maker's sake." I said to him, as if that could matter. I went to say something else, but I noticed something rise within him as he gaze ripped toward me.

"I know, but I turned my back on her! I threw who she was into her face as if it were something to be ashamed of!" He shouted, the patrons around us watching curiously as to why the Knight-Captain was shouting, much less why he was in here to begin with. I looked away, not caring for his tone, but instead of shouting back, I understood. He looked away from me, running his hand against the side of his face. "and now, I will never see her again." His regret lacing his tone as he leaned into his seat a bit. I didn't lock gazes with him again as he stared at the new ale mug that was placed before him. "Perhaps it's for the better. Some things are best left undone." That was the last thing he said to me before finishing the ale and disappeared out into the night, the sound of his boots slamming into the ground below. I didn't go after him, thinking it was best to allow him some time alone. But now, all I could think about was what was truly on his mind as he attempted to keep the mages in line. And what my dear cousin could possibly thinking, if it was at all about him. It was from there that I returned to my home, climbing into bed beside Anders' sleeping form. The sound of his gentle snoring comforting me as I pressed my body against his bare back, letting his warmth envelop me. Despite all the pain and disaster in this world, losing the one you love has to be one of the most torturous. And for that, I don't envy the Knight-Captain.

Not one bit.


End file.
